Iron Fist in a Velvet Glove
by Evgeniya
Summary: Eric witnesses an intimate moment between Talbot and Russell. Takes place Season 3. Warning: discipline/spanking of an adult male vampire.


**Author's Note: **This was written back in 2011. I never cared much for it. I was experimenting for a contest and discovered that this style wasn't for me. As a result, there may be plenty of mistakes! I never intended to post it, but I might as well unload the last finished R/T story I have on my hard drive. I haven't felt like finishing my other R/T stories after I had a hurtful encounter with someone. But who knows. Time heals all wounds after all. In the meantime, I can always focus on Russell/Steve stories. :)

My word for the contest was _submission/surrender_.

**Summary:** Eric witnesses an intimate moment between Talbot and Russell. Takes place Season 3. **Warning:** discipline/spanking of an adult male vampire.

* * *

**IRON FIST IN A VELVET GLOVE**

by Evgeniya

Talbot and Eric sat in the library, occupying their time with a game of cards until Russell returned. Eric thought he could keep the royal consort engaged by showing him some new tricks, but Talbot was familiar with any and all pastimes. As with any man of the world, he would not allow himself to be amused by simple parlor tricks. The smirk on his face let Eric know that he relished telling him that.

Once Talbot cleared that up, Eric suggested that they make up a game of their own. The notion was unimpressive to a Byzantium prince, but the intimacy behind it was too tempting for a neglected consort to ignore. It would be a mysterious game shared only between the two of them – to be played whenever they found themselves alone together. It may have not been the kind of game the royal consort longed to play, but he knew better than anyone that every game began with a first move.

For all intents and purposes, the game was a success. They playfully argued over their cards when Eric played a card that outranked all others in the deck.

"There's no trump cards. We agreed."

"My game, my rules," Eric smiled.

"_Our_ game," Talbot corrected silkily, but still not anything short of insistent.

Russell shortly entered. He blustered into the room with the force of a storm, but his devastation far more severe. Even without muttering a single word, he had a commanding presence that dominated the entire room.

Talbot knew from experience to place his cards down.

Still clutching onto his cards, Eric watched as Russell made no excuses while interrupting their game. The king seamlessly slipped into some ancient tongue that Eric could not recognize. The tone was quiet and harsh at times, but a certain tilt of his head let Eric know something was serious. It was also a gesture Talbot responded to because his face suddenly turned red. His eyes swiftly grew heavy with shame and Eric found himself entranced by the disgrace.

It was obviously a language reserved for when they wanted no other ears to listen because Talbot responded in kind. At first he tried to dismiss Russell with an airy wave. Eric sensed Russell struggling to bring his temper under control with great effort, but after every single syllable responses from Talbot, the king grew louder.

Eventually, even Eric found himself affected by the ice in the king's throat. Before he knew what was happening, Talbot was up from the table, spitting at Russell in the same harsh tone.

As any gracious houseguest should, Eric tried politely to ignore the squabbling couple. He made a great show of focusing on the cards in his hands. He shuffled them around as long as he could; it would have been rude otherwise and the royal pair seemed to value good manners above all else.

However, the conversation quickly turned into a heated argument. Eric couldn't resist watching from behind his cards to see how it would all unfold. As a guest in their home, he had witnessed many intimate moments of their relationship, but they still had seemed to be mostly guarded. It was imperative to know your enemies, so Eric had waited patiently to discover a weak spot.

Talbot repeated the same word over and over again. Eric wasn't quite sure what it meant. For all he knew, it could have been "_but_—" or "_fuck off_." Either way, Russell was quick with his responses and when he whispered something low and cold, Eric could tell it hit a nerve. Talbot's face managed to become redder and his eyes were permanently glued to the floor.

Of course, Eric couldn't blame him. Even he couldn't meet those eyes while the king was still so angry. No one defied the king. No one.

Russell's next words ended on a higher pitch. It was a question, but Talbot was not responding. Either he didn't feel cooperative anymore or he just didn't have the answer Russell was demanding. The last thing Eric saw was Russell gripping the younger vampire's arm. To judge by the expression on Talbot's face, something terrifying was about to happen.

In an instant, Russell and Talbot were gone. They could have been anywhere in that big mansion. For fuck's sake, with Russell's strength and speed they could have been anywhere in the entire universe! The only thing clear now was that Eric was long forgotten.

For a moment, the blond vampire sat alone in the library. He listened to the soft melody that continued to play on the phonograph. The plated and painted parts still gleamed like new and the wood maintained its original finish. Just like all the other objects in their home, the phonograph was a treasured item. It may have sat alone in the mansion all day, but it was still cherished and held great value. He could understand why Talbot fawned over it so.

Eric stacked all the cards in his hands; simply enjoying the richness of sound coming from the brass horn. The motor ran perfectly. Only during the softer parts of the song could the hiss and crackle of wear be heard. These were the flaws that actually became a desirable quality in this modern and chaotic age.

When the song became quieter, the crackle became louder. Now Eric became privy to a new sound. His eyes rose to the ceiling and he knew Talbot and Russell continued their argument upstairs. He could hear the guards tramping down the staircase. They were no longer standing watch on the second floor – a sure sign they were sent away. Eric ascended the staircase and pushed past the guards and that's when he heard the gasps and whimpers.

He followed the quiet pleas onto the second floor. The door to Russell's bedroom was slightly ajar. Its warm glow radiated outward and broke apart the darkness in the hallway. Eric peered inside.

The king sat on the grand bed with his progeny stretched across his lap. Talbot's legs hung off the edge of the mattress and his backside was exposed and bent over Russell's knees. The skin was already red and sore with angry handprints. He was shifting uncomfortable and squirming with embarrassment, but it was clear that Talbot was trying hard not to pull away from the heavy hand raining down on his backside. He yielded all control to his maker, like any proper child would.

Eric's eyes were transfixed on the writhing of his hips. It was all just involuntary movements to jump away from the sting. No one could break free from the king's wrath, but Eric knew if Russell showed anyone leniency, it would be his Talbot.

The sight and sounds all mixed together. He saw the younger vampire's backside vulnerable and sore – his face scrunched up in a look of pain and remorse. The harsh slaps echoed terribly through the hallway. Then there were the short, jerky gasps between. Eric's fangs lost control at a particular pitiful cry. His razor sharp fangs suddenly slipped out.

The desire to inflict and relish pain tickled his primitive instincts. He quickly hid behind the doorway, hoping no one heard the click of his sabers descending. He couldn't let Russell know he invaded his privacy and then took pleasure in the discomfort of the royal consort. He could tell by the look on Russell's face that he was not taking pleasure in this. He was merely exercising the control he had as king, lover, and maker.

Hidden behind the door, Eric thought of Pam. Yes – she was one to enjoy pain. But now she was at the mercy of the Magister; the ruthless bastard destroying her beauty and burning into her flesh with silver. She deserved none of that and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He simply had to wait. Wait for Russell to intervene and to trick his enemy into pushing his revenge forward.

The thought of Pam in pain instantly settled his fangs back into place. Now Eric could focus on the plan at hand. He was doing everything for his child.

And for his human family…

Eric turned away and pressed himself against the wall. He could still hear Russell's calloused hand working its fury against the exposed skin of Talbot's backside. He noticed a pattern in the blows. There was a routine.

Eric quietly listened to the smacking sound as Russell would land several swats to the same area before moving on; no doubt leaving a bright patch of red before moving on to untouched skin. He listened to the whimpers that soon turned into heavy sobs. Throughout it, Talbot offered no excuses of any kind. But what he choked out between the tears were whispered promises and apologies.

Even Eric found himself bracing against the stern words. He could hear Russell spanking in rapid succession. Talbot's eyes must be red by now and burning with tears. For a brief moment, he imagined what it would be like to have the royal consort in such a position of submission. It would no doubt be satisfying to have that arrogant backside quivering across his knee. He longed to hear the shock in Talbot's cry and feel the heat against his hand as he punished such noble flesh.

After seeing the flush on Talbot's backside, Eric longed to be the one to humble such a conceited, rounded bottom. As strict and severe as the king may be, Eric knew he could get that consort squealing.

Sometime later, Eric didn't realize when the final gasp fled. Perhaps he had been lost in thought, but the blond vampire suddenly found himself surrounded by silence. He peered behind the doorway once more and saw that the onslaught was over.

Russell now sat on the floor with his back against the bed. Talbot was huddled into his arms, resting his head in the king's lap. Bloody tears dried against his face.

Russell had an arm wrapped around Talbot's torso and his child was clutching his maker's hand. It looked as though they were holding Russell's heart. The king's other hand was in Talbot's hair, mindlessly brushing back the sweaty curls and whispering gently.

Holding each other tight, they quietly murmured to each other in the same old language they had fought in downstairs. Only this time, the words were much less hostile. They were gentle and sweet and caused each other to squirm adoringly against each other. Eric could tell that part was important. It wasn't just about punishment – it was about being cared for.

Eric tried to sense any lingering resentment in the air, but he could only feel love and tenderness emanating from the two. For some reason, it infuriated him. Despite how much they fought, they had a relationship of understanding and forgiveness. Unfortunately, Eric recognized the uniqueness of such a bond. Of course, he also knew that severing it would cause a wound that would never heal. Talbot was the softening influence over Russell.

Not liking the tender side of the Mississippi king, Eric turned away and headed back downstairs. He would let the king and his child enjoy this tenderness together because he knew how fleeting it would be.

Back downstairs, Eric listened until the song finished its tune on the phonograph. He then carefully removed the disc and set it aside.

When Eric turned around, Talbot was already back in the library. He was packing up the cards from the abandoned game and rearranging the table so everything lay just right. Talbot no longer looked like a chastised lover now that the guilt had been completely washed away. He looked content and relaxed and life just continued to move forward.

Eric stood behind him and rubbed his arm softly until he was noticed.

"Why him?" Eric asked as Talbot turned around.

Of course, the real question was '_why you_?' Russell was hell bent on business and politics. Finding time for love and companionship and family would have seemed to be the least of his priorities. Where did Talbot fit in all of this?

With wide eyes, Talbot glanced around the room as he thought it over. He wasn't quite clear on the question or what Eric thought he heard.

But then he simply smiled.

"I know," Talbot admitted softly. "Vampires are not submissive creatures. But when we meet the right man, a _true king_, we surrender ourselves to him."

That statement was not so much about himself, but about Eric as well. Eric had falsely pledged his allegiance to the king. He had made himself look as submissive as a progeny would to a maker. The thought that either of two took it seriously would have made Eric's stomach churn if Russell had not entered shortly.

"What are you two talking about?" the king inquired briskly as he stood beside his adoring child.

"My Stockholm Syndrome," was Talbot's quick witted reply before he headed out the door with the cards in his hands.

With his hands clasped tightly behind his back, Russell simply smiled at Eric to show he was not bothered by the taunt. All it showed was that Talbot had not lost his natural resistance. They had just simply adopted a natural authority.

"Come," Russell announced as he placed a hand at Eric's back and led him back into his study. "Let's talk about your progeny and see what we can do to alleviate the situation."

Eric let himself be led back to the floral jacquard settee that sat proudly in the king's study. However, he would not enjoy the deep-seated comfort of such elegant furniture. He would go through great lengths for revenge and even exploit the help of others…

But he would never, _never_ surrender to anyone.

THE END.


End file.
